Tomato Girl

by Jayne Pupek

  “You won’t mind if I take a look around?”

  “No, of course not. But you’re not leaving, are you?” Mama asked. She twisted the buttons on the front of her dress.

  “I’ll come back in before I go,” he said.

  Sheriff Rhodes put his hand on my chin and looked into my eyes as he spoke. “Ellie, honey, I don’t know what your daddy’s done. However this turns out, I’ll do all I can to look after you and your mama.”

  “I don’t want you looking after us. I want Daddy!” I said, almost shouting. “And you leave my father alone! Don’t you dare shoot my daddy! Promise me you won’t shoot him!”

  Sheriff Rhodes wrapped his arms around me. “I won’t shoot your daddy, Ellie. I promise I won’t hurt him.”

  As my sobs turned to hiccups, Mama came over and rubbed my hair. Her hand moved quickly, the way it does when she’s nervous.

  WHILE SHERIFF RHODES went out to the toolshed to look for Daddy’s gun, Mama made supper. I helped stir the mashed potatoes while Mama finished frying the pork chops and salted the green peas. Mama talked and talked. She rambled on about Baby Tom and planting new pansies; about how I shouldn’t fret because Daddy would forget Tess and come back; not to worry about Sheriff Rhodes because she could keep him from putting Daddy in jail. “You’ll see, Ellie. We’ll all be a family again, Daddy, Mommy, you, and Baby Tom.”

  The sheriff returned to the house just as Mama finished setting the food on the table. “There’s no gun out there.” He leaned against the kitchen wall and looked at Mama. “Only strange thing I saw was some equine tranquilizers and a couple of syringes. I know Rupert doesn’t keep horses. Any idea what he’d be using them for?”

  Mama looked at the floor. Her eyes focused on the black and white tiles. She studied the pattern as if it were a giant chessboard and she needed to decide her next move.

  The sheriff paused, watching Mama stare at the floor. He gazed at me. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t. I stared back at him, not blinking once. He had to see I was strong. I wouldn’t be the place he could find a crack. Daddy had taught me that you never tell people too much, and you keep your eyes focused when they get close to the truth.

  “Well, I’ll have to call the coroner, see if they find any trace of tranquilizer used on Mason Reed.” The sheriff spoke to Mama, but looked at me. He knew I knew, but I would not give.

  “Don’t bother, George.” Mama looked up, her face tense and flushed. “They weren’t for Mason Reed. He used them on me, understand?”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Sheriff Rhodes stepped forward and put his hands on Mama’s shoulders. She pulled away. He didn’t know Mama’s moods like I did. She needed to move, not be held still.

  “Let’s eat,” Mama said, pacing from the stove to the table, from the cabinets to the sink. She gathered spoons, salt and pepper, anything to keep moving. Most folks would see a busy woman preparing the evening meal, but if you knew Mama as I did, you’d see the spiral inside like whirls of color trapped under her skin. Her hands shook as she placed each item on the table, spilling a few peas from the bowl. Every few minutes, Mama paused, wound the same strand of hair behind her ears, and gazed at the road through the window.

  WE SAT AROUND the table, Sheriff Rhodes in Daddy’s chair at the head of the table. I wanted to ask him to move, but instead kept quiet. An argument might get him back to questions about Daddy.

  Besides, I was hungry. I’d been too upset to eat at Clara’s house and now my stomach ached. I speared a thick pork chop and cut it into pieces on my plate, then added a large scoop of mashed potatoes with extra butter on top. I spooned a few peas beside my potatoes. I hate green peas almost as much as carrots, but grownups make a fuss if they see no vegetables on your plate.

  The pork chop tasted salty; Mama had sprinkled too much on them while they fried. The inside was tender and moist, though, and I ate it, savoring every bite.

  “I fed your chick earlier today, but you might want to take him some of these mashed potatoes after we’re done,” Mama said, piling too much food on her plate. Mounds of peas covered Mama’s potatoes.

  “Got you an Easter chick, hey?” Sheriff Rhodes asked, shoving pork then buttered bread into his mouth. He looked at Mama as she played with her hair and stirred her peas into her potatoes.

  I nodded and drank my tea.

  “What’s his name?” He talked from the corner of his full mouth.

  “I haven’t named him yet.” I almost told him about Jellybean, but didn’t want to talk about any more dead things. Besides, Tess had named Jellybean and that reminder might upset Mama. During her sad times, she mostly cried when she got upset, but during her too-fast times, she sometimes threw things and had fits. She said dirty words and made faces that scared me. For now, she seemed able to eat and stay seated. At other times, she might not be able to settle down enough to eat or sleep or stop crying. Those were the times Daddy gave her the shots. Would I be able to calm Mama without them?

  I understood how Daddy could use them. When you are desperate, you do things you’d never imagine. Is that how Daddy felt when he killed Mason Reed? Maybe Tess made Daddy desperate that way.

  Mama swallowed her food and licked her fingers, one at a time. The sucking sounded loud in the quiet kitchen.

  “What about Easter? That’s a good name for a chick,” Mama suggested.

  “Thanks, Mama. I like that.” I hadn’t cleaned my plate, but didn’t think Mama would notice. She forgot many of the rules. That had mostly been Daddy’s job. “Can I go up to see him now?”

  Mama nodded. “I couldn’t find a box, so I cleaned out a coffee can and put him in that. The coffee shouldn’t hurt him, just a few grounds left in the bottom.”

  “Okay.” I pushed my chair back from the table and stood. My scraped elbow burned when I bent my arm. “As long as you remembered to poke lots of holes.”

  Mama dropped her fork and put her hand over her mouth.

  My knees almost buckled, then I caught myself. “No, Mama, please don’t say you forgot the holes.”

  I ran upstairs, my tired legs stretching to take two steps at a time. I threw open the door to my room. Mama and Sheriff Rhodes were right behind me.

  The blue Maxwell House can stood on my bed. Please God, I prayed. How long ago had she put him in the can? There would be enough air for awhile, but I’d been gone for hours.

  My hands shook as I pulled the plastic lid from the can. The air inside felt warm and smelled bitter from the chick’s droppings and leftover coffee grounds.

  The green chick lay on his side.

  “Easter?” My eyes filled with tears. He didn’t even know he had a name.

  Mama placed her shaking hand on the small chick. “He’s breathing, just a little, Ellie. Here, feel.” Mama took my hand and rested it on the chick.

  I was so afraid the breathing Mama felt was her own tremble. But no, I felt it, too! A tiny movement, a flutter. I had to do something to try to save him. And then I remembered what I had overheard that afternoon. “We have to take Easter to see Clara, Mama. She knows magic. Please, Mama. Clara can save him, I know she can.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  YELLOW BIRD

  I RODE IN THE BACKSEAT of Sheriff Rhodes’s car and held the coffee can on my lap. Even with the window rolled down partway, the inside of the car smelled like sweat, pee, cigarettes, and dog. I worried that the bad air would make it even harder for little Easter to breathe. I cupped my hand over his soft body to make sure he was still alive. His tiny chest barely moved.

  Tears wet my face, but I didn’t dare take my hands off Easter to wipe them away. Bubba sniffed at the can, trying to find the chick he smelled but couldn’t see. “Bubba, stop!” I had to grip the can tight to keep him from knocking it out of my hands.

  “Lay down, Bubba!” Sheriff Rhodes looked into the rearview mirror and made a stern face.

  The scolded dog flopped down on the seat and rested his head on his paws.

  Mama sat
up front next to Sheriff Rhodes and stared out the window. She had grown quiet at the mention of Clara. She didn’t ask how I knew her; she didn’t say anything. She twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, winding it tight against her head. This would hurt anyone else, but when Mama’s in her too-fast mood, she doesn’t seem to feel pain.

  Sheriff Rhodes adjusted his hat. A roll of fat on the back of his neck rested on his dark brown collar. “We’ll be at Clara’s house in no time,” he said. “Right down the street, and we’ll be there.”

  I wondered if he said the same thing to criminals as he drove them to jail. I could hear him saying, “We’re almost to the jail-house now, boys.” No wonder they sweated and peed all over the backseat.

  He said a few more things, but I only half heard them. When your heart is breaking, sometimes you just want everyone to hush.

  I focused on my mission. Clara could save Easter. Yes, she could. She had to save him, because the thought of him dying hurt too much to imagine. I could not stand in the yard and put another small thing into the cold ground. Please, God, I prayed, let her know the right magic. Let Easter live.

  Sheriff Rhodes parked in front of Clara’s house. I looked out the window and saw Jericho sitting in a rocking chair on the porch.

  Sheriff Rhodes raised his hand at Jericho. Jericho waved back.

  I tried to find a door handle to let myself out, but there wasn’t one. I had to wait for Sheriff Rhodes to let me out.

  Finally, he opened the door for Mama, then me.

  I ran ahead of Mama and Sheriff Rhodes, up the path to the porch. Yellow light glowed from inside one window, and I imagined Clara inside, reading or making evening bread.

  Jericho stood up when I reached the porch. “What you got in that coffee can, Ellie?”

  “My chick … Mama forgot the holes … and …” I started crying again. I felt like pinching my own face for not being brave. Crying wouldn’t explain how I needed Clara’s help.

  Somehow, Jericho knew.

  “Come on in, honey. Clara’s got her bag of tricks. She ain’t going to let your bird die.”

  Jericho opened the front door to let us in. “Clara?” he called. “We got company. They need your medicine.”

  Clara stepped out of her bedroom and walked toward us. She’d tied a purple scarf around her head, but had on the same blue-gray dress with white flowers splattered on it that she’d worn earlier in the day.

  I expected her to ask me why I’d run off this afternoon without saying thank you or good-bye, but she didn’t. She didn’t say anything to me at first.

  Clara walked past Sheriff Rhodes and me and went straight to Mama. “Miss Julia,” she said, “I’m so glad you came to my home.” Clara held onto Mama’s hands while she spoke, her dark thumbs rubbing Mama’s palms. “I hoped I’d see you again. Remember I read for you once, when you were feeling poorly?”

  Mama’s skin paled as she nodded.

  “I fell ill myself for a spell, then had to go back to Georgia and look after my mother until she passed,” Clara said.

  Even as Mama’s eyes darted around the room and her shoulders twitched, Clara held onto her hands and kept talking.

  Just as Jericho somehow knew about my dying chick even when I couldn’t get the words out, I knew not to interrupt Clara.

  “Me and Jericho haven’t been back here long, Julia.” Clara led Mama to a chair by the window. “Here, you sit.”

  Mama sat down and opened her mouth to speak. Clara touched Mama’s lips with her finger. “Hush now, let me finish.” Clara stood beside Mama’s chair and continued talking. “I stopped in the store a few times. I saw your girl a time or two. I asked your husband about you. He said you were doing fine, but you know, I like to see things for my own self. I kept hoping I’d run into you, but he said you didn’t come to the store much. I sure am glad you came to me now.” Clara rubbed Mama’s arm.

  Mama’s eyes grew watery and her lips trembled. She started to speak again, but Clara stopped her again.

  Clara pinched a small green leaf from a plant in the window. “Hush now. You don’t need to tell me a thing. I know you remember things you don’t want to. Not now. You don’t need to speak now. Here, put this under your tongue.”

  Mama opened her mouth like an obedient child.

  “Now don’t chew or swallow, just leave it under your tongue, and be still.”

  Mama did as Clara said.

  “Now then, seems I got a sick bird to mend.” Clara walked to me and took the can from my hands.

  How did she know? Had she heard Jericho and me talking on the front porch?

  “Follow me,” she said as she walked toward the next room. She stopped in front of Sheriff Rhodes. “Jericho can see these two ladies back to Grace Street. Why don’t you go on home? Millie’s wondering where you been.”

  Sheriff Rhodes shifted on his feet. “I reckon you saw that in your crystal ball?”

  Clara laughed at Sheriff Rhodes. “Don’t need no crystal ball to know a man’s wife got to wonder why her husband’s car been parked outside another woman’s house all evening. You do as I say, and go on home.”

  Jericho laughed, rose from his seat, and walked toward Sheriff Rhodes. “You best quit while you is ahead. Come on now, let’s you and me go have a smoke.” Jericho placed his hand on Sheriff Rhodes’s shoulder and led him out the front door.

  I thought Mama would put up a fuss when he left. Instead, she leaned against the back of her chair. Her eyelids flickered, but didn’t open.

  I followed Clara into the kitchen. A large black stove sat in one corner and in the center of the room was a narrow table.

  Clara handed the can back to me. “Hold this,” she said. While I held the can, Clara untied the scarf from her head and smoothed it flat on the table. “Now you watch,” Clara said, “but do not cry or speak unless I ask you a question, understand?”

  I nodded.

  Clara reached inside the can and lifted the little green chick. “And his name?”

  “Easter,” I said, careful not to let my voice quiver.

  Clara laid Easter on the center of her scarf. He didn’t move, so I thought he must be dead, but Clara held up her hand to warn me not to speak.

  As she moved about the room and gathered items from a cabinet by the sink, Clara spoke directly to Easter. “You are a fine bird, Easter. All green like a lime, with a nice layer of baby fat. I knew a chicken like you, only he was yellow.” Clara sat down. She reached into a white bag and pulled out a handful of yellow powder. She moved her hand around Easter, sprinkling what looked like cornmeal. When she was done, a thin yellow line circled Easter’s body.

  “Put this away.” Clara handed me the bag without looking at me, and I returned it to the cabinet, making as little noise as possible. Goosebumps rose along my arms.

  She lit a green candle and placed it outside the circle. “Yes, Yellow Bird used to follow me around the yard when I was a girl. Anybody come near to bother me, Yellow Bird pecked their feet. He saved my backside many a switching, yes he did. Now here you are with a girl of your own to look after. You can’t let her down, you hear me?” Clara put her ear to his beak as if to listen for his answer.

  A moment later, Clara reached into her apron pocket and pulled out four flat black stones. She placed one at Easter’s feet, one at his head, and one on either side of his body. Speaking to me, she rested her hands over Easter’s body. “Go into my backyard and find a feather from the right wing of a bird.”

  “But it’s dark outside. How will I find a bird?” I wondered, too, how Clara expected me to make a bird hold still while I took a feather.

  “You came here for me to raise this bird, right?”

  “Yes, but …”

  “If you believe I can raise this bird, then you have to believe I can call a bird to you for its feather. Now, go out back, look in the lilac bush. There will be your bird.”

  I did as Clara told me. Just outside her back door, a lilac bush grew against her
house. Although it was dark, a street lamp shone bright enough for me to see the small clusters of blooms. I heard a cooing sound, then saw small gray wings flutter in the middle of the bush. When I reached out to touch the bird, she flew away. As she lifted into the sky, I held my hands up to try and grab her. Her wings beat faster, and she flew out of reach. She called out once more, and then, a single pale feather floated into my hands.

  My fingers felt its warmth, like a soothing ointment.

  Back inside the house, I handed Clara the feather.

  Taking deep breaths, Clara blew across Easter’s body and waved the feather in circles around him, her hand moving faster and faster. Seconds later, Easter’s wings twitched. At first, just one sudden twitch, barely noticeable, but then the twitches grew stronger, until his tiny green wings fluttered and he rose up on his feet.

  “Welcome back,” Clara said, then laughed. She turned toward me. “Well, girl, are you going to pick up this bird or not?”

  I hugged Clara’s neck, then scooped up Easter with both hands. His soft body felt warm and alive. His tiny heart thumped against my palm.

  Clara pinched some cornmeal from the table and sprinkled it into the palm of her hand. She spit on the yellow powder and made a paste. Little by little, she fed Easter the damp cornmeal.

  “He sleeps in my oven tonight to keep his blood warm,” Clara said.

  Clara’s words confused me. “But I want to take Easter home.”

  “No!” Clara snapped. “You cannot take him home yet. There is a dead spirit in your house, no? I can see it, but not clear. It’s trapped somehow, behind water, or mirror, or maybe a glass.” Clara squinted as if trying to make out what she saw. She rose from her chair and opened her oven door. She looked at me. “An unsettled spirit might take his life away. Your chick cannot go back there until the dead thing rests.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  HOME

  CLARA PACKED A BASKET of butter cookies and jars of dark red jellies. She wrapped a gray knitted shawl around Mama’s shoulders and brushed the hair away from her face. “Spit,” she said, and put her hand under Mama’s mouth to catch the leaf she’d placed under her tongue when we first arrived. After Mama spat, Clara shoved the wet leaf into her apron pocket. She looked into Mama’s eyes. “If you need anything, Julia, you send the girl, and Jericho or I will come, do you hear? Don’t care if it be day or night. Don’t care how bad a thing is, if you need me, send the girl.”